


the taste of your cherry chapstick

by huphilpuffs



Category: Phandom/The Fantastic Foursome (YouTube RPF)
Genre: Crushes, Kissing Booth, M/M, Pastels, pastel!dan, punk!phil, punks
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-15
Updated: 2017-04-15
Packaged: 2018-10-19 10:22:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,364
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10637895
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/huphilpuffs/pseuds/huphilpuffs
Summary: Punk!Phil has a crush, so when Pastel!Dan is manning a kissing booth for a school event, he finds himself showing up with a pound in his pocket.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Special thanks goes to Harley for giving me the idea for this fic and encouraging me as I was writing it, and to Gisele for reading it over and promising it was okay to post. (Also let me know if you'd be interested in seeing more of this version of Dan and Phil because they were fun to write and I have a few ideas.)

“A fucking  _ kissing booth _ ?”

Phil barely had time to mutter a responding  _ huh?  _ before PJ was reaching over and tearing a poster from the school’s brick wall. He read it quickly, the page clutched in one hand and his cigarette perched in the other before crumpling it in his hand, tossing it aside with a huff.

“Kissing booths not your thing, Peej?” Phil huffed, laughter ringing in his tone when PJ flipped him off, already taking another drag of his cigarette.

There was a moment’s silence, the crumpled poster sitting between them and smoke billowing in the air. Phil’s fingers were fumbling with the zipper of his leather jacket, eyes locked on the page with  _ no  _ curiosity as to its contents whatsoever. Absolutely none.

But PJ must have caught him staring, because his laughter was ringing in the air, his toes jamming against Phil’s kneecap. “Kissing booth’s your thing, Lester?”

His leg jerked, and he reached over to shove at PJ’s shoulder. “Shut up,” he hissed, though there was a smile on his face. 

“I mean, this one might be,” PJ continued anyway, reaching forward with his free hand to swipe the ball of paper from the ground and toss it at Phil. “Apparently your flower boy is manning it.”

There was a split second where the words had Phil pausing, his palm still flat against PJ’s shoulder and his gaze shifting to the poster sitting by his thigh. But he forced himself to look away, lips twisting into a frown as he shoved at PJ’s shoulder again, reached over to pluck the cigarette from his friend’s hand.

“You promised to stop mentioning that,” he spat, sucking in a drag of smoke and blowing it out as though to punctuate his statement. 

“I did no such thing,” said Peej, plucking his cigarette back, taking one final drag before putting it out against the stairwell’s tiled floor. “You have the biggest crush on  _ Howell.  _ I would have never promised to not tease you about that every chance I got.”

“I don’t have a–”

But PJ was already laughing, the denial surely having grown familiar since Phil had first uttered it too long ago. He pushed himself from the ground, playfully kicking at Phil’s leg one more time before stumbling towards the door. “Chris has a spare so I gotta go,” he said. “Maybe you should go to that kissing booth and see if you can get an out for bio.”

“Fuck off, Peej,” said Phil, swiping the poster from the floor and pitching it at PJ only for it to bounce off his back and tumble back to rest on the ground between them. 

The only response was the sound of the door slamming shut, and Phil stared at it for a moment before letting his gaze fall.

To the poster sitting by his feet.

He waited a second, cheeks burning and mind racing to tell him how pathetic it was, and then he reached over to swipe the poster from the ground and see what it said.

\---

He stepped into the stadium with his back to the wall and a frown drawing at the corners of his lips. His hands were shoved into his pockets and his leather jacket was stretched over his shoulders, gleaming under the glow of the white Christmas lights the school had put up. 

The too-green grass housed the festival they’d organized, booths of activities that went far beyond the kissing booth PJ had joked about in the stairwell. There were games to rival the carnival that came into town every summer, and a bake sale that seemed to belong at a primary school, and many the cheerleaders were going around waving pom poms and chanting something that made Phil’s ears ache.

His ticket was still clenched in his fist, and he considered tearing it up, turning away with an eye roll at himself for even showing up.

But then he found the kissing booth in the crowd of activities, and he was pushing himself off the concrete wall at his spine to step deeper into the festival.

Dan was standing there, leaning over the table with a smile on his face. He was wearing his cheerleading uniform, the school logo printed it blue and white and stretched across his chest. Phil hated that he knew the matching pants hugged Dan’s ass  _ perfectly _ . His hair was in curls, a crown of blue flowers perched atop his head.

Phil wanted to knot his fingers in the strands, knock the blossoms from Dan’s head as he shoved the boy against the wall, lips pressed to his.

Okay, so maybe PJ was right and Phil had a  _ small  _ crush on  _ flower boy. _ On Dan.

He almost went straight to the kissing booth, ready to draw on his guise of confident indifference and walk over. Could picture himself leaning against the table opposite Dan, stretching his neck to show the tattoos of roses that poked from beneath the neckline, the vine of thorns climbing to curl around his ear, as he dropped the pound between Dan’s hands. But his thumb dragged over the festival ticket in his pocket and doubt settled in his gut, drawing him towards the bake sale instead.

The cupcake he bought was covered in pale pink icing that reminded him of the jumper Dan had worn to school that day, the red velvet cake matching the blush that would often bloom across his cheeks. He ate it quickly, before anyone could notice him standing at a school event with a pink cupcake in his hands.

And then he walked over to the kissing booth, fidgeting with the pound in his pocket until he drew close enough to force the crooked smile onto his face, the squareness of his shoulders.

“Hey, Howell.”

Dan was smiling when he turned to him, a soft upturn of his lips that made him look softer, warmer than the flower crowns and pastel clothing ever could. “Since when do you come to these things,  _ Lester _ ?” he called back.

_ Since you started working at a kissing booth _ , seemed to be the wrong thing to say, so he responded with a shrug instead. “I like to support my school,” he offered, but Dan just scoffed.

There was a pause then, when Phil finally reached the booth, when he was standing so close he could see the pale dotting of freckles over Dan’s nose and the petals of each flower in his crown. A moment where Dan just stared at him and smiled and Phil wanted to lean over and kiss him without handing over the pound.

But then he was holding the coin up between them, rolling it between his fingers and Dan was staring at it, a smile on his face.

“Kissing booths, huh, Phil?” he said. “Want me to get Chloe?”

He motioned towards the opposite end of the booth, to the head cheerleader but Phil didn’t even bother to turn, to look. “I don’t know. You’re more my type,” he answered, quirking a smile when he saw Dan’s widening at the words.

“Well then, pay up,” he said.

Phil dropped the coin into his palm at that, noting the blue nail polish on Dan’s fingertips and that it matched his cheerleading uniform. And with Dan staring back at him, he raised his hand, tapped his fingers to the smirk he was forcing to remain in place despite the bubble of nerves in his stomach.

He was going to kiss  _ Dan. _

Sure, he was paying for it, and Dan had probably kissed a bunch of people that night. But still. He was going to know what it felt like to have Dan’s lips pressed to his, know if they were as soft as they looked, if the lip gloss he usually had on tasted of anything. He was going to have Dan so close he could figure out if he smelled like the flowers he had perched atop his head.

It happened then. Dan’s laughter was high and ringing in the air, and then he was leaning over, pressing his lips to Phil’s. 

It was quick, just a peck but it was enough to feel the warmth of Dan’s touch, the way his lips were actually chapped, to smell the roses that seemed to swirl around him. Enough to have Phil’s heart skipping a beat, lurching itself against his ribcage, and blood burning in his cheeks.

“I hope my services were satisfactory,” said Dan, and Phil blinked to see his smile having widened even more, his teeth pearly white and dimple popping in his cheek.

He almost kissed him again.

_ Almost. _

Instead, he shrugged. “Your lips are a little chapped,” he offered, and he turned away before his blush became too obvious, or before he did lean over and kiss Dan for longer than a split second.

Okay, so maybe his crush on  _ flower boy  _ was a  _ tad  _ bigger than small.

\---

“I can’t believe I let you drag me to this thing,” huffed PJ, blowing out a final drag of smoke before crushing the butt of cigarette just outside the stadium door. “And just so you can get another kiss with flower boy.”

Phil shoved his hands deeper into the pockets of his jacket at the words, huffing in annoyance even though it was  _ true.  _ “I couldn’t just show up alone again. He’d have noticed if I kept showing up by myself and kissing him.”

PJ let out a laugh at that, leaning over to elbow him in the shoulder. “Yeah, you’re right,” he said, voice laced with teasing and making Phil roll his eyes before the thought was complete. “It’s not like flower boy will think it’s strange when  _ two  _ of the least likely people to enjoy this festival bullshit show up. Or he will and it will totally distract him from the fact that you want to kiss him again.”

“Shut up,” was the best response Phil could muster.

“Whatever,” said PJ. “You gonna go get your kiss or what?”

Phil turned to him, eyes wide. “I can’t just  _ go over there _ ,” he hissed. “I have to make it look like I came here for something besides a kiss.”

PJ’s response was an eye roll, a dramatic sigh. “You’re such a girl, Lester.”

“Says you, who forced me to spend a  _ whole  _ free period in the bathroom so you could do your hair for a date,” he countered, bumping PJ’s arm with his own when he caught the responding grumble from his friend.

They stood around for a while, leaning against the stadium walls and watching the crowd below. Phil was certain less people had showed up today, that it would be harder to blend in with the leather jacket drawn over his shoulders and tattoos staining his skin, with the smell of smoke lingering since his last cigarette.

And yet he dragged PJ forward anyway, found himself returning to the bake sale, where cupcakes were tempting but he bought a brownie instead because it seemed safer with PJ laughing at his every move. The chocolate was sweet on his tongue as he watched PJ play a game of ring toss, disinterested but smiling politely when the teacher manning the booth handed him a box of pencils decorated with the school logo.

“Are you going to make me play more games or are you going to go kiss flower boy so we can leave?”

Phil swallowed, turning towards the kissing booth at last. Dan was wearing his uniform again today, the sleeves drawn up over his forearms and showing off the bracelets looped at his wrists. They matched the crown of pale blue flowers sitting atop his head, and the bloom of pink over his cheeks.

PJ shoved him forward, palm flat against the center of his spine, letting out an annoyed huff that had Phil turning back to glare, even as he stumbled forward, towards the kissing booth. 

Dan noticed him before he reached the booth, jumping from his chair, dimple deepening as his smile widened. He twirled the curl that fell over his forehead, fidgeted with his bracelets, plucked at the pompoms sitting on the table before him as he waited.

And then he called out. “Back for more, Phil?” His smile was cocky, chocolate eyes shimmering.

Phil’s hand tightened around one of the coins in his pocket, jaw clenching because it sounded so stupid. That he, who went around school rolling his eyes at authority and skipping classes, who showed up on a motorcycle and wore a leather jacket, would come to a fundraising festival two days in a row just to kiss his crush.

Yet here he was, standing in front of Dan, smirking and handing over a coin. “What can I say? You offer good services, Howell.”

Dan smiled, dropping the coin into the jar for the booth. Phil expected another quick peck, a split second he could spend the night thinking about because Dan made him  _ that  _ stupid. Instead, Dan was leaning down, swiping something from his backpack and holding it up between them.

It was a tube of cherry chapstick.

“I want you to know we take customer suggestions  _ very  _ seriously here,” he said, and made Phil watch as he smeared it across his lips, tasted it with the tip of his tongue. 

A breath was caught in Phil’s chest, a heartbeat skipped as he watched Dan grin.

“You good?” he asked, and he got a nod in response because Phil was sure any words he could try to speak would escape as a stutter.

And then Dan was leaning forward, and Phil was sure this was the most ready he could be, was sure he’d get a quick peck and then Dan would rock back on his heels with a giggle and a teasing remark. But then there was a hand on his shoulder, swiping over the collar of his leather jacket, and fingers tripping over his neck to curl at his nape.

 

The kiss was softer this time, slower. Dan’s lips were warm and his hand was soft, and Phil could smell the flowers that followed Dan the way smoke followed him. Dan’s thumb swiped across one of the ridges of his vertebrae as he pulled away, touch fading but Phil was sure the warmth lingered, burning in his cheeks, in his chest.

“Has the service improved?” he asked, rocking back, reaching up with his now-free hand to adjust the flowers on his head.

Phil forced himself to look thoughtful just for a moment, to not blurt out a  _ yes,  _ or, worse, a  _ it was always great.  _ He shoved his hands into his pockets, made a show of licking his lips as Dan had earlier, just to watch brown eyes trace the swipe of his tongue, and let out a hum.

“I suppose so,” he said, offering a smile when Dan rolled his eyes.

“Well, I’ll be here all week,” he said. “In case you want to come back so I can prove to you that we offer the  _ best  _ service.”

He responded with a shrug, turning on his heel so the last thing he saw was the dimple he wanted so badly to kiss. It only took him a moment to find PJ, watching from behind one the information booth, arms crossed over his chest and annoyance evident in his frown.

“Satisfied with your kiss?” he asked.

Phil found himself licking his lips again, tasting the final remnants of cherry there. “I’m coming back tomorrow,” was the only answer he gave.

PJ responded with a groan.

\---

He didn’t drag any of his friends with him on the third day. In fact, he spent a long time standing outside the entrance trying to convince himself that going in  _ again  _ would be too sappy and desperate. But the coin was heavy in his pocket and the memory of Dan’s lips against his was burned in his mind and he found himself stepping into the stadium, teeth digging into his lip and heart stuttering in his chest.

Without PJ looking over his shoulder, he bought another cupcake that day, sneaking a glance at Dan and the flower crown he was wearing to choose the color of icing he wanted. He ended up leaning against the stadium wall, dragging his finger through a swirl of pale yellow icing, rolling his eyes at himself even as the corners of his mouth turned upwards.

He could see Dan from where he’d situated himself, sitting on one of the stadium benches with his feet propped up on the seat in front of him, eyes locked on the kissing booth below. There was a twist in his gut when a girl walked up to the booth, got a peck on the lips for her coin. A flash of green before his eyes and a possessive clench of his heart betraying his brain’s reminders that Dan wasn’t  _ his. _

And yet he pushed himself from his seat, swallowing the last bite of his cupcake as his fingers found the pound in his coat pocket.

Dan was smirking when he reached the booth. “Finally decided to come down?”

Phil swallowed back a sputter, eyes narrowing when Dan just let out a high-pitched laugh that sounded too much like a giggle and made love swell in his chest and the words he forced out sound choked. “How did you know I was here?”

“You wear all black, and you’re at a school event. You stand out like a sore thumb, Phil,” he explained, voice deadpan though his smirk remained, teasing and happy and Phil wanted to kiss it away. “Good choice with the cupcake, by the way. I like the yellow.” He reached up, swept a thumb over the petals on his flower crown, let his hand linger to he could twirl a curl with his fingers. “But you have some crumbs.”

Phil expected Dan to motion on his own cheek, allow him to swipe the apparent crumbs from his own face with a blush climbing the pale skin of his cheeks. But Dan leaned forward, lifted a hand to brush his fingertips to the very corner of Phil’s mouth, a soft touch to the warmth of his lips.

He was  _ close.  _ So close. And it shouldn’t be jarring, but Phil felt his heart flip in his chest, felt the heat of Dan’s breath when he spoke.

“Did you bring a pound or?”

It was embarrassing how he rushed to shove his hand into his pocket, fumbling with the coin and dropping it onto the table between them. The clatter rang in his ears.

And went silent the moment Dan leaned forward to press their mouths together.

His palm drifted along Phil’s cheek until it was cradling his jaw, holding him close as though he would consider pulling away. It was hard, though Dan’s lips were still soft and the smell of tulips swam in the air around them. It was hard and it lingered until Phil was reaching up, too, feeling the softness of Dan’s skin under his palm, the hot slick of Dan’s tongue across his lips.

He tasted of cherries and smelled like flowers and Phil could get lost in the touch of Dan’s lips, the enchantment of his proximity. 

They parted after a second, Phil stuttering on an inhale as his eyes fluttered open to catch the blush spreading across Dan’s cheeks, the small smile gracing his lips, the shimmer of affection in his eyes.

His heart flipped.

It had happened before, this feeling in his chest. The first time he’d found himself stuck in a pep rally and watching the school’s only male cheerleader. The first time he’d passed Dan in the hall and smelled the flowers in the air. The first time that smile of pearly white teeth and the most adorable dimple was flashed in his direction.

But this time was different. It was warm and Dan was still  _ so close  _ and Phil knew exactly what it felt like to kiss the rosebud lips that had haunted him. And he wanted nothing more than to not have a table separating them, than to pull Dan into his arms and kiss the curls atop his head, feel the petals of Dan’s flower crown tickle his cheek. 

He pulled away slowly, took a stumbling step back as he watched Dan, still blushing, fumble with the coin Phil had left, and drop it into the booth’s jar.

“You better be careful, Phil,” he said, “or I might start to believe you actually do want to support the school.”

Phil responded with a shrug, a smile more genuine than the smirk he usually sported. “Or maybe I’m finally realizing you do offer the  _ best  _ services.”

Dan’s blush deepened, and he dipped his head to hide it, and Phil felt his heart do that flippy thing again as he turned around and walked away.

\---

It was with a regretful sinking in his gut and a swallow of his latest cupcake that Phil realized, the next day, that the festival was more than halfway done. That he had two days left where he could slip a coin to Dan and get a kiss in return, under the guise of supporting his school that would be betrayed only by the burning of his cheeks when they parted.

There was another coin in his pocket today, a new crowd on the stadium grounds below. He watched them mill around, children playing games and parents purchasing things from the various booths, before turning his gaze to Dan.

To find Dan staring back at him.

He was sitting behind the kissing booth with his feet propped up on the table in front of him, tennis-shoe clad toes pointed. There was a smile on his face, the corner of his lip caught between his teeth. Sunshine fell over the stadium and even though he was so far away, Phil could have sworn it shimmered in chocolate eyes.

His hand stayed in his pocket, twirling in the coin in his fingers, until he saw Dan offer a wave, slight and shy and so unlike Dan but matching the softness of his smile.

And he found himself returning the wave, the slight movement of his hand almost foreign, odd given the black leather pulled over his shoulder and the tattoos littering his skin, the cigarettes in his pocket and the smoke on his breath. But so was showing up to a school festival every day just to get a kiss from a boy who wore flower crowns and a cheerleading uniform, so Phil let himself wave, let his heart flip in his chest when he saw Dan’s smile widen.

It took him a moment, until Dan’s gaze flitted to the ground with a shy flutter of his lashes over his cheeks, before Phil stood, making his way towards the ground below. Cold metal had warmed in his hand, and he flipped the coin in his pocket as he approached the booth.

Dan was standing when he got there, plucking at the strands of his pom pom with one hand, resting his cheek in the other. “Back for our fantastic service?” he said, though the words were soft and there was something thoughtful behind his eyes that was unfamiliar, strange for Dan.

He could have sworn Dan was staring at his lips when he smiled in response. “I’m a loyal customer,” he offered.

Dan’s smile widened, eyes lifting to meet Phil’s, the sun definitely shimmering in them now. “The most loyal,” he said, though his voice was laced with contemplation, and his gaze fell to land on Phil’s lips again. “Do you, uh, have a pound again today?”

There was a smile on his face and a waver to his voice and Phil’s chest tightened with it, with the realization, as he stared at Dan from across the table, that he seemed to want this. Not in the teasing way Dan usually indicated that he did, but in the way Phil did, with a blush on his cheeks and a smile on his face and eyes drifting to smiles and lips he wanted to kiss.

He dropped the pound on the table between them, and Dan looked up at him again, dimple popping in his cheek.

Then a hand was cradling Phil’s jaw and a palm was warm on his chest, fingers sliding beneath the leather of his jacket to curl at the t-shirt he was wearing beneath it. And Dan was pulling him closer, pressing their mouths together so feather-light Phil could barely feel the softness of his lips.

So he reached up, curled his hand at Dan’s nape so he could feel curls brushing his fingertips, so he could draw Dan closer, kiss him harder. So he could taste the chapstick on his lips and the sweetness on his tongue and twirl a curl around his finger because Dan’s hair was as soft as the rest of him.

He pulled away after a moment, sucking a breath as they parted. But his hand lingered at Dan’s nape, and Dan’s stayed twisted in the fabric of his shirt. Dan’s eyes fluttered open slowly, and Phil’s breath caught because they were still shining, but no longer with sunlight.

A smile spread across Dan’s face again, soft and sweet, and before Phil could remind himself that they were at a kissing booth, he was leaning in again.

But Dan used the hand still at Phil’s chest to push him away, laughter falling from his lips though soft joy stayed in his eyes. His giggles were high and happy, his amusement contagious despite the rejection, and Phil watched as he motioned to the table between them.

To where the coin he’d paid with still sat. 

“You only paid for one kiss,  _ Philly _ ,” said Dan, laughter growing louder when Phil shot him a glare at the nickname. “But tomorrow’s our last day, so maybe you could come back and I’ll give you a discount?”

Phil responded with an eye roll, though warmth welled in his chest at the lilt of hope in Dan’s voice. And he offered a smile before turning away, hoping Dan knew that there was no way Phil was missing what might be his last chance at kissing him.

\---

It was dumb, that there was a moment, coin in hand and breath caught in his chest, that Phil considered not going. Considered that  _ maybe  _ it would be better to have one less kiss with Dan than to go to the kissing booth knowing that would be the last. 

It might have been dumber that he shoved the coin back into his pocket and stepped into the stadium, a smile on his face and acceptance that he would have  _ one  _ last kiss with Dan welling in his chest.

He avoided it, though. Found himself turning away from the kissing booth and following his usual path to the bake sale first. One final cupcake to go with one final kiss, so that his lips hopefully wouldn’t taste of the cigarette he’d smoked that morning and Dan would be left with a smile that makes his dimple pop and eyes bright as the sun.

Cupcake in hand, finger having already drawn a line through the pale yellow frosting so he could taste the vanilla on his tongue, he made his way to the bench where he usually sat. Where he had a view of Dan at the kissing booth and the shadow protected him from the sun and he could smile and think of how beautiful Dan looked in his uniform and flower crown from afar.

But when he sat down, Dan wasn’t sitting at the kissing booth. Chloe was there alone, waving her pompoms at people as they walked by and getting kisses from a few random people, and Phil felt a sinking in his chest at the sight.

Dan wouldn’t have made a point of asking him to come if he wasn’t going to be there, right? But maybe he was sick and had to cancel at the last minute? Or–

“Hi.”

Phil jumped, coin slipping from his hand and cupcake getting mashed into his face. He could feel the icing sticking to his chin, to his nose, could hear the giggles coming from behind him. 

“You shouldn’t just sneak up on people like that,” he hissed, but Dan kept laughing, walking towards him until they were sharing the bench, only a few inches between them.

“Totally worth it,” he said, and in a moment his hand was curled at Phil’s jaw, thumb swiping through the icing on his chin. “You look cute with icing on your face.”

Phil felt his heart flip in his chest at the words, though he forced a huff. “I’m not really going for  _ cute _ .”

“Well, too late,” said Dan, and he brought his hand to his mouth, licked the icing off his thumb. “You’re cute without the icing too.”

He heaved a sigh again, but his heart was still stuttering and he could feel the burn of a blush on his cheeks, and hoped the icing was hiding it. “I’m not cute,” he managed, though a smile curled at the corner of his lips. “You’re way cuter.”

Dan’s smile widened, his cheeks turning a soft shade of pink that matched him perfectly. “Thank you,” he said. “But my being cute doesn’t make you any less cute.” And Phil rolled his eyes in response but Dan was holding out the hand he hadn’t gotten full of icing in an instant. “Anyway, I wanted to give you this.”

Phil held out his hand that wasn’t covered in cupcake crumbs, and felt cool metal land in his hand, heard the clink of the coins against each other. He knew before he checked, before he saw the four pounds sitting in his palm.

“Huh?”

He felt Dan’s shrug rather than saw it, they were sitting so close together. “I, uh, figured you shouldn’t have had to pay when I wanted to kiss you so much anyway,” Dan explained, his head dipped when Phil turned, eyes wide, to face him.

“You wanted to kiss me?” he asked, forgetting about the air of indifference he was meant to have, the eye rolls and sighs he expected of himself. About everything but the racing of his heart and the warmth in his chest and the fact that Dan just said he  _ wanted  _ to kiss him. 

When Dan looked up at him, their faces were only inches apart, and his smile was small and nervous, his fingers fidgeting with his crown of flowers. “I told you,” he said. “You’re cute.”

And Phil kissed him, dropping his cupcake so the he could curl a hand at Dan’s cheek and feel his smile under his palm, so that the other could wrap around his waist and hold him close. He could feel Dan’s smile against his lips, his fingers slipping under his leather jacket again and wrapping around the fabric at the base of his spine. It was soft and warm and Dan still tasted of cherries when his tongue slicked against Phil’s and a quiet moan rumbled from his chest. 

Dan was giggling when they parted, leaning down to rest his forehead against Phil’s and the smile on his face, the light in his eyes, was the most beautiful thing Phil had ever seen.

“You got icing all over me,” he whined, though he was leaning forward, smudging a kiss to Phil’s cheek, poking his tongue out to lick some of the icing from the spot. “But it’s okay. You’re cute.”

Phil had his crush in his arms, giggling into his shoulder, and peppering kisses to his cheek and a warmth in his chest far better than that any smoke could provide and a smile on his face. But he still forced a sigh, even as he pressed a kiss to Dan’s curly hair.

“I’m not cute,” he argued.

Dan giggled again. “You came to a kissing booth every day for a week just to kiss me,” he said. “You are definitely cute.”

And he couldn’t formulate an argument against that, so he just kissed Dan again.


End file.
